


~B&B: Bed and Boyfriend~ (CHAPTER 9/PART 1)

by faraboverubies22



Category: Love Island (Video Game)
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Mystery, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 00:19:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20733125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faraboverubies22/pseuds/faraboverubies22
Summary: {RECAP: You're trapped! Will you make it out?}





	~B&B: Bed and Boyfriend~ (CHAPTER 9/PART 1)

CHAPTER 9: The History of Brookenridge Estate// Part One

In the cobweb-covered space between the hauntingly old room upstairs and your gateway to freedom, you stand there, shaking the knob of the door to the hallway, but it won't budge. Terror beginning to unravel within you, a light-bulb turns on above your head and you immediately bring out your phone. While attempting to get the door open, you use your other hand to access your phone and call Bobby.

_*ring, ring*_

...

_*ring, ri-*_

"_? Where _are_ you?" Bobby's voice strains on the other end of the line, clearly sounding concerned.

"Bobby, thank God," you breathe a sigh of relief, hope returning to your body. "I kind of did an oopsie.."

You explain everything; how curiosity ate you up and lead you down the opposite hallway and up the spiraling staircase and into the old room with an even older letter.

At first, there's silence over the phone. You can almost hear his brain working overtime to process what you've just told him. And then, he starts to laugh.

"Oh, my God, _, that's hilarious!" He cried, and you can faintly hear the sound of his feet walking briskly against the hardwood floor. "Don't laugh!" You snapped, but a smile plays at the corners of your mouth. "I'm trapped in this smelly, old place and I need help!"

Bobby continues to laugh, and this time, you can hear it from the other side of the door. In seconds, a noise is heard at the knob section of the door, and, voilà, the door opens with Bobby still laughing on the other side. You act hurt, your face contorting into a frown. "Hey, I was really scared, you dickhead." This only causes Bobby to laugh even harder, bending over and clutching at his sides.

"You-" he stops to laugh- "you should see your face!" You start to grin and then follow Bobby out of the room, closing the door shut behind you.

"Okay, okay, okay." You try to calm him down but he's still going at it.  
After his laughter dies down, Bobby stops in the middle of the hallway and turns to face you. You follow suite and wonder why he's stopped all of a sudden. "What, going to make another joke?" You prod him on the shoulder with your finger.

Bobby shakes his head, and instead, he says:

"You know, you really shouldn't go looking in certain places where you don't belong." He tells you, sternly.

"I-I'm sorry, I guess I should have just gone straight to my room but I was just cur-"

"No, I know that, lass, I just.." he takes a second to collect his thoughts.

"This place is extremely old." He puts emphasis on 'extremely', and looks towards the floor in concentration.

"Yeah, don't have to tell me twice." You giggle, starting to walk toward the direction of your room again.

"Seriously, though," he starts to say, catching up to you and finding your side.

"I know you're a curious Nelly, always have been, ever since we met on Love Island, but," he trails off, looking straight ahead, face unreadable. "I just don't want to see you get hurt, is all." You begin to play with your cuticle, processing his words.

"I get it, but," you begin to tell him, almost reaching your door. "The letter."

You turn to look at his face, watching for any sign of emotion or expression. Nothing.

"It's over a century years old, Bobby. Do you know anything about who wrote it or who they wrote it to?" You whispered, not wanting to disturb any of the guests.

As if reading your thoughts, Bobby pulls you inside your room and once you two are inside, he turns around to shut the door quietly. Turning around to face you once again, Bobby walks over to the bed and sits himself down. You do the same, sitting closest to the headboard. Bobby finally speaks up.

"This place used to belong to a small family, years back, at the turn of the century," Bobby begins to tell you. Looking down at his slim fingers, he bites the inside of his cheek, his eyes darting back and forth in thought.

"For a reason I do not know, the father had to go away, leaving behind a wife and daughter."

"Claudia." You concluded. Bobby nods his head, smiling.

"When I first started working here a couple months back, I, too, wound up in the old room, curious as a cat. I found the letter and Flower caught me red-handed, that nosy woman." He laughs at himself and you begin to wonder if that was Bobby's handprint on the door you saw earlier.

"She had shared that they keep the room locked so no one can enter, saying 'the spirits of the Brookenridge family might be released if the door dare opens'". He mimics a ghost, his arms raising and his hands flailing about. You shake your head and giggle at him. _What a dork._

A thought occurs to you.

"But, the door wasn't locked when I found it." You inform him, your eyebrows furrowing. Bobby looks at you confused.

"Really? I figured you had found the key to it. Flower seems serious about keeping that room locked but I swear that woman leaves the key at the doorstep." You look away for a moment, trying to piece everything together.

"No, it was unlocked. There was no key." You tell him. He looks concerned for a moment, but only for a millisecond before he forces a smile.

"I'm sure it's nothing, then." He gets up and prepares to leave the room when you stop him, tugging on his arm.

"Wait, who were the Brookenridge's? And how does Flora know about them?" You ask, wanting to know every answer in detail. Bobby senses your urgency and walks back to the bed, placing himself back down beside you.

"She says they were close friends, her and the Brookenridge's. That's all she'd ever say on the topic." He shrugs and gives you a smile that says he doesn't really care about any of it. You nod slowly and he proceeds to rise from his seat and walk towards the door. Before opening it, he turns to you.

"You should get some sleep, but don't worry, miss, I'll come see you in the mornin' to make sure you're feeling all better." He sends you a wink, and with that, he disappears into the silence of the hallway.

You wait a moment or two before getting up out of your bed and walking straight to the door when your phone dings.

Pulling it out of your pocket, you see that Laney sent you a text.

"Laney!" You exclaim, remembering that she exists.

You quickly type a greeting, apologising that you haven't updated her yet. You put the phone back in your pocket and feel it vibrate, knowing it's Laney again, probably dramatising her pain and suffering from the lack of communication.

Ignoring her, you open the door quietly, making sure it doesn't creak. Once all the way open, you peer out to ensure there's no one out in the hallway. Crystal clear.

You begin to tiptoe down the hallway, past the landing and across the other hallway, leading to the spiraling staircase. You can feel it in your bones that this isn't safe, considering what happened last night, but you can't stop the wondering and curiosity!

You reach the door to the second flight of stairs and open it. It curls open with a subtle creak. Once in, you turn around and, instead of closing the door, you leave it only a quarter way's open. _Now I shouldn't have to worry about doors locking on me._

Making your way up the stairs, you pass the window that now looks midnight black -not like earlier when kisses of sun peaked through- and soon reach the top of the stairs. Excitement coursing through your veins, you tug at the knob and it opens with ease.

Stepping inside the room you were in only an hour or so ago, the same odd, eerie feeling returns, filling you with doubt and replacing the enthusiasm you had only seconds earlier. You move over to the wardrobe this time, feeling lead to do so, and reach to open the doors. Expecting nothing, nothing is not what you discover when you unlatch the wardrobe from its century-year-old entrapment. In the middle of the wardrobe, you find a dress on a wooden hanger.

Long, flowy and old. It's clearly as old as this room, if not older, and bears signs of its age, as well, the lace seam brittle, stiff and falling apart. As old and torn as it appears, it's still quite beautiful, you realise. The colour is a dark silvery-like grey solid, the floral detail along the sleeves sewn to perfection. Diamond-like beads cover the midsection and you feel tempted to put it on.

"It's so beautiful," you whisper to yourself, staring in awe at the dress before you.

You pull out the letter that has been in your pocket this entire time, and your eyes fall upon the letters for the umpteenth time.

_We weren't expecting this._

"What were you not expecting, Mr. Brookenridge?" You ask the emptiness of the room, getting nothing in response.

You turn around and walk over to the bed, not daring to sit down and ruin the perfect condition of the bed. _It's history, after all._

Walking over to the desk, you curiously open the drawer, revealing yet another letter.

Eyes widening, you grab at it greedily, wanting to read its contents. This time, before diving in, you check the top corner of the paper for the date.

_February 24, 1917._

Almost a year after the first letter!

_Alice,_  
_ I have not yet began to piece together how I feel about_  
_ leaving you and my darling Claudia. It is with most m_  
_ ourning that I state that mother is ill and bedridden. Surely_  
_ you two can survive without me for another day or two._  
_ Charles does not want me to leave and I have tried to reason_  
_ with him. As long as I return to our estate, back to you, I_  
_ will weather any storm if that means reuniting with you and_  
_ Claudia. Tell her that her father thinks of her more often_  
_ than not. Goodby._

You clutch at the paper, putting it to your chest, feeling for this family that is long gone by now. _What has happened to them? Did the father ever return?_

Your thoughts are interrupted at the sound of footsteps walking up the spiraling stairs. You turn your head to the door, and feel your heart jump into your throat.

Acting quick, you find that there's enough space underneath the bed to hide, and you lower yourself down to the floor and crawl into the darkness. It's not long until you hear the door open, heels clacking at the hardwood floor.

You hold your breath. _It must be Flora._

The clicks and clacks of the person's heels cross the room and over to the wardrobe.

_Oh, no._ You freeze in place, realizing that you didn't close the wardrobe.

Silence.

...

"I know you're in here." Flora says.


End file.
